


Festivals of Light

by apolesen



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alien Mythology/Religion, Hanukkah, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-03
Updated: 2011-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-22 04:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apolesen/pseuds/apolesen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk and Spock discuss midwinter celebrations on Terra and Vulcan, and are reminded of more serious matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Festivals of Light

The climate of Vulcan was incomparable to any on Earth. The entire planet was very hot, even at night, and the seasons were not particularly prominent. There was no such thing on Vulcan as midwinter, and thus it was never celebrated. Many festivals were centered around days of rain, which in ancient times had been considered sacred due to their rareness but that the temperature dropped and the days grew shorted was nothing which was celebrated as on Earth. Vulcan religion in itself was a difficult concept; Surak had argued in favour of agnosticism, as there was no way to make a logical argument for the existence or non-existence of the divine, due to the lack of evidence. Most Vulcans, including Spock, adopted this view, but it seemed like the old gods had a strange allure, even if the teachings of Surak had been the norm for thousands of years. Even if Spock knew that the ceremonies were only empty words and the offerings only an excuse for a feast, ancient Vulcan religion still appealed to him. When he was young and joined in with the religious festivals, his unspoken ostracism seemed not to matter. The verses, the libations and the ceremonial procesions seemed to fuse him into the collective, because in religious matters, as far as such were relevant among his people, Spock was fully Vulcan. In his culture, religion was solely something practiced by the collective, and due to how few the festivals of the year were, he would only occasionally experience this belonging. Still, it was illogical to ignore that the mind had a need for metaphysical belief, even if that belief in itself lacked logic, and even if Spock had let logic dictate his life almost fully (and more than once that had lead to detrimental decisions, particularly where emotions were at stake) this had never been one of those areas.

His father would attend the festivals – a word which made the dignified and sober processions sound rather more extrovert and joyous than they were - and he had encouraged Spock in this display of his cultural heritage; even if religion in itself was an illogical concept, it was logical to strengthen the ties of the community. Amanda would always come with them, but she had never shared her faith with them, short of explaining the history and principles of Christianity and sometimes telling her son biblical stories when he was small. When he grew older, he discovered that she had never brought Sarek to church with her, but on the other hand, Amanda did not give the impression of being an ardent believer. She seemed aware that it above all was one of many parts of the web of culture she would always be wrapped in. Raising her son in the Vulcan way left no place for her religious influence, but she did not seem to mind. Rather she was fascinated by Vulcan religion and when Spock was in his teens, she would often ask him to recount stories from the divine legends. He would comply, and from the light in her eyes he discerned that she took as much pleasure in the tales as he did. Mostly, he would tell stories of the cycle of Shi’kiratek, a warrior goddess and patroness of _t’hy’la_. The concepts were interconnected, of course, as it was of warrior couples in Vulcan’s belligerent past the word t’hy’la was first used, and fighting side by side was seen as a strong manifestation of the love and trust between those two men.

‘But why do they have a _goddess_ for such a thing?’ Amanda had asked once.

‘It is my assumption that as _t’hy’la_ are brothers of a kind,’ Spock had answered, ‘they need a mother of the kind. When Shi’kitarek functions as their patroness, despite her oath to take no consort and remain a virgin, she fulfills that role.’

He had not had to explain this to Jim; from his growing smile he saw him following the connections between war and love, one they knew well from experience, and between men pledging themselves to one another and goddesses pledging themselves to no one. By that time, they had known each other several years. Religion, Spock had found, was nothing easily discussed by humans, especially as some of them still viewed polytheism with suspicion, and he tended to think it was far too personal to speak of. Kirk had never expressed any concerns of the nature of Vulcan religion, but rather seemed intrigued, and in turn had shared his own religious observations.

His standard view was much the same as Spock’s. Kirk was not actively religious; indeed, his take on the divine lay somewhere between indifference and atheism. However, religion was a cultural component much as any other, so sometimes he would indulge in it (as he tended to put it). He would almost never celebrate Shabbat, due to lack of time and commitment, but he would always try to celebrate the annual holidays, if duty allowed it. This was made much easier now, when they were stationed at the Academy and there was no ship to defend or any red alert to disturb them. Despite missing his command, it was occasions like this when being dirt-side, as Kirk called it, seemed a huge advantage.

‘You know, real latkes are so much nicer than replicated ones,’ he concluded as he helped himself to more of the potato pancakes, fried in so much oil that McCoy would probably have a mental breakdown if he knew abut it. When Kirk offered the plate to Spock he accepted it nevertheless; it was true that they were very pleasing to the palate, and having cooked the meal together made it even more enjoyable.

As he put the plate aside, he watched Jim take a sip of wine and smile at him. Sometimes, Spock would feel a vague sense of loss in his _t’hy’la_ from not constantly feeling the reverberations of the _Enterprise_ rise around him, but this particular evening, he seemed to glow with happiness. Kirk always looked attractive, but tonight, when he was in such a good mood, had dressed a little more smartly than usual and was still wearing his kippah after the lighting of the first candle of the menorah, he looked exceptionally handsome. Spock did not realise how long he had been watching him and how lax the control of his face must have grown until Kirk raised his eyebrows and brushed against his knee. That made warmth erupt in his chest, and had he not known better, he would have thought that he blushed.

‘But you are,’ the human said softly, reached over the table and touched his cheek. Spock pressed his lips together self-consciously. ‘Don’t suppress it – it makes you look even more beautiful.’

‘Jim, are not compliments to wait until after dinner?’ Spock asked, making him laugh.

‘Alright – but I’ll have to make you blush again tonight,’ he said, radiating warmth and joy. ‘Sorry – I interrupted you earlier. What were you saying before I started derailing agaonst replicated Hanukkah food?’

‘I merely stated that Vulcans do not celebrate midwinter,’ he answered. ‘However, there is no midwinter on Vulcan, so it is only logical. However, celebrations thereof are a recurring element in Terran religions.’

‘But even Vulcan has a kind of winter, doesn’t it?’ Kirk wondered.

‘The changes in temperature over the seasons are only minor.’

‘But the days grow shorter. Isn’t that much what midwinter is about?’

‘Indeed,’ Spock conceded.

‘How did you start thinking of midwinter celebrations?’ the human as he finished yet another latke. ‘Do you think that’s what Hanukkah is?’

‘Without a doubt,’ the Vulcan said and paused to take a sip of water. ‘It seems to be a human need to place religious festivals at the darkest point of the year. In Earth’s ancient history, there are many examples of extensive sacrifices at midwinter. In the late Roman Empire, there is the figure of Sol Invictus, the unconquered Sun, which is both an image of military victory and of light, metaphorical as well as actual. The festival dedicated to him was on the twenty-fifth of December, which is most likely the reason why Christmas is on this date. Of course, it is practical to instate a new custom which is meant to replace the old on an already established date, but Sol Invictus has traits not dissimilar to those of Christ. There are other Christian examples, for example the feast of Saint Lucy, which is celebrated in Scandinavia on the thirteenth of December, although it originated in Sicily. A girl is picked to represent the saint and along with certain other attributes of her martyrdom, she is dressed in a crown with lit candles, at which she leads a procession of her maids-of-honour, who also carry candles, just at dawn. Before the change from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar, the thirteenth of December, rather than the twenty-first, was the longest night of the year in this part of the world.

‘Thus, consideirng how close Hanukkah is to other festivals connected to the Mediterranean relating to the coming of light, I would indeed argue that it is a midwitner festival. I am certain you will now object and point out that it is not allowed to use the candles lit on Hanukkah as illumination, but that they are only to serve as a reminder of the miracle, but that miracle – to make one night’s worth of oil last eight is a miracle of _light_ , is it not?’ Kirk had watched him throughout this explanation with a smile on his face. When Spock concluded his reasoning, it widened.

‘You’re right, of course,’ he said. ‘I guess you need to take it in context – see beyond the rituals.’

‘Surely that is what the rituals are to inspire us to do?’ He laughed at that and said:

‘Obviously I’m out-witted.’ They ate in companionable silence for a while; the meal was almost finished when Kirk said:

‘What about Tam’petek?’ Spock raised an eyebrow quizzically. ‘Doesn’t that conform with what you told me about midwinter festivals?’

‘That is a different matter – Tam’petek has nothing to do with light or any variation thereof,’ he answered. Then he paused, uncertain whether to expound, and then decided in favour of it. ‘It is a festival of commemorating defeats and death. That is one of the sides of Sha’kiratek, it is a reminder of the fact that war might bring defeat just as it might bring victory – that sharing a bond might mean it will be broken.’ A shadow passed over Kirk’s face and Spock could sense his sudden unease. If the feelings through their connection did not illustrate it, how he reached across the table and took his bondmate’s hand did.

‘Don’t talk of such things, Spock,’ he said softly. The fear was one they had been faced with almost daily during the ten years they had been in space together; considering the dangers their duties entailed, there had always been risks. The Vulcan could only press his hand and say:

‘There is no need to be agitated, I am certain – considering where we are stationed, nothing fatal should befall us. The greatest dangers at the Academy are tiresome training cruises and cadets who have received a lower mark than they believe they should have.’ Kirk smiled, but did not answer straight away.

‘Oh, you’re right.’

‘Indeed – however, this is the nature of Sha’kitarek. She is a reminder of the risk of being a warrior, and Tam’petek is celebrated for that reason.’ The discussion was underway again and still with his hand on the other man’s, Kirk said:

‘But I thought fire was central to Tam’petek. You told me once that they place long cables in patterns in the ands, and then they’re lit, so that the whole landscape lights up.’

‘That represents the ancient custom to leave torches to show the way to a warrior’s grave after the funeral,’ Spock answered.

‘What I mean is… all those festivals you mention are all about making the darkness easier to bear, isn’t it?’ The Vulcan nodded. ‘And Tam’petek _is_ celebrated during the darkest part of the year at Shi’Kahr, right?’

‘That is true.’

‘So why can’t the darkness which is being banished be both the actual dark of the night and the grief after a loss?’

Spock thought this through properly, as he remembered seeing the desert burst into flames, shining up the night, and how the fire would go out just before sunrise.

‘Your analysis is controversial, but it is clear-sighted. There are similarities. However, it does not fall completely comfortably into the category, due to its concentration on death.’

‘It’s not like other religious festivals at this time of year don’t have to do with horrible events,’ Kirk said. ‘Hanukkah rises from civil war and the destruction of sanctuaries. The events of Christmas led to mass-murder of children and flight. Didn’t you mention a martyrdom as well? What I mean is that a festival can have roots in downcast events, but still be joyous in itself.’

‘To a certain extent, yes. We tend to overlook the more gruesome aspects of most religious festivities,’ Spock said. Kirk smiled at him and caught his gaze. A quiet agreement to conclude the discussion there passed between them. Then he said:

‘All right, let’s clear the table and…’ he looked up and smiled mischieviously, ‘…get onto other matters.’

‘I cannot see any objections worth having,’ Spock answered, and in unison they rose and got to work.

Five years later, Kirk remembered the conversation in a different light. The bond in his mind was severed, even if the man he had shared it with was alive again, but he did not know him yet. During the night of Tam’petek, he stayed awake to see the fires, but he did not need its reminder to know the twin nature of Shi’kitarek. He had seen both and was stuck in between the two states; he was still grieving, despite that his bondmate lived once more. All he could do was hope and will the patterns of light to pierce his gloom.

A century later, Spock stood on the cliffs overlooking the Vulcan desert and saw how it burst into flame. It did not lead him to the grave of his bondmate, even if throughout the millennia, many warriors must have buried their _t’hy’la_ there and lit torches to light the way to the spot. Neither he needed the reminder, but still he found himself compelled to be on Vulcan for every celebration of Tam’petek. Perhaps it was an attempt to find peace from the gnawing of the broken bond, which every year seemed like the same bleeding stump where Kirk’s mind had been torn from his – perhaps he came to torture himself with the recollection of what had been lost. He could not himself tell; his logic and his reasoning were blotted out at times like this by longing.

But that night, where the burning deserts of Vulcan and the absence of familiar thoughts in one’s mind was far away, none of them gave heed to the dark, but only concentrated on the light. The world receded and only the two of them existed. Throughout the night, the sparks between them were enough to light up the darkness, and in each other’s arms they met the rising sun.  



End file.
